Birthday Thief
by Natto'n'aliens
Summary: Holly Dursley, Dudley's younger sister, finds a mystery she can't solve: how can every body have a birthday of their own, when there are so little days in a year? She reaches a disturbing conclusion: not everybody can have a birthday. But Petunia is here to help her solve it... even if it means stealing his birthday from the little orphan living under her roof.


_Disclaimer: I don't own _Harry Potter _or anything from that marvellous world._

_Hi! Here's a little one-shot I imagined about life with the Dursleys... if they had a daughter two years younger than Dudley (for some reason, I love inventing stories featuring OCs...). Maybe it's a little far-fetched, and, okay, quite pointless, but I thought of it as a cute little story... Anyway, enjoy! :) Don't forget to review, too. Thanks!_

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**Birthday Thief**

Holly Dursley was trailing after her big brother and her cousin, deep in thought. At five years old (almost six!), one of her favourite activities was solving mysteries. She had already cleared up a good part of the things of life; there was really no mystery she hadn't been able to solve. Even when it had meant harassing her mum for an answer for days.

Yet, today, at school, a particular event had struck her. Today was one of her classmate's birthday (he was now six! ...oh, how Holly craved to be six as well! The boy had paraded all day with a very smug smile on his face, telling everyone they were "little". To hell with little! ...but we're going off topic). So the whole class had celebrated with a cake baked by Tommy's mum.

There was no mystery in a birthday party (only cake and sweets and presents). No, the mystery had come when all the children asserted at once that it was their birthday as well.

To that, the teacher had answered that everybody had their own birthday, that they couldn't share it with anybody.

Too bad for the teacher, she had taught them the seasons and the months of the year just the day before (and, plastered above the black board was the frieze summing up that lesson).

After a peek at said frieze and a brief counting of how many people there were in the world (at least... that many! the girl had concluded with outstretched arms), Holly was down to one certainty: not every body had a birthday.

Not every body _could _have a birthday.

Raising her concerns to her teacher had only resulted in being dismissed with a kind – yet somewhat nervous – smile (the teacher didn't seem to think of little Holly as a very bright kid... though to her defence, her elder brother Dudley had been no genius... and he had been the main reason behind the poor woman's first few white hairs – or so she was convinced).

So Holly had decided to take her mystery home and to ask her mother instead.

Well, to be honest, the slice of strawberry-cake had made her momentarily forget all of her worries. Worries that the lonely walk back from school had once again brought to life.

What if she wasn't among the lucky few who did have a birthday? She had always been told that she had one, but... what if?

"Duddy?" the little girl finally resorted to ask.

"Hm?" came the muffled-by-chololate-flavoured-snacks answer.

"Do you have a birthday?"

"Oh cou'sh! It'sh neksht week!"

"And you, Harry?"

The boy in question jumped at the question, looking surprised to be talked to. Really, Holly had never been outright mean to him, even willingly playing with him at times, but it wasn't to say that he felt totally safe around any of the Dursleys.

His messy black hair and too big clothes and glasses made him look particularly frail. He was hardly taller than Holly, despite being in fact two years older.

"Yes." He continued when Holly only smiled expectantly at him: "It's on the 31st of July."

That stopped the girl dead in her tracks. She had made sure to be able to count to 31 at school because of that important date that was...

...her birthday. But if it was Harry's as well... no. There was no "as well" with birthdays!

"No!"

. . .

As on every school day, Petunia Dursley was waiting for her children and their cousin on the doorstep of 4, Privet Drive (which also gave her an incredible excuse to spy on her neighbours...). She was thinking of how unkempt the hedge of the Jones' had become (...to say that they lived just across from her own house... had these people no shame?) when she heard the distinct sound of her baby-girl crying. Without thinking twice she leapt toward the loud sound, finding her daughter puffing and sniffing and crying. A quick scan told Petunia that Holly wasn't hurt, making her worry recede a bit.

The mother took her daughter in her arms – not as impressive a feat as trying to carry Dudley, considering the girl had inherited her mother's bony figure. She started babbling comforting words in a soothing – to her, at least (because to the rest of the world it was downright creepy) – tone. So in order to keep the sanity of the readers in check, the author has decided to sum it up a bit.

"What happened, dear?"

"Hee – Haaawy –" hiccup "Oool – bi... biday!"

Petunia turned her quizzical gaze to the two boys. Dudley had chocolate all over his mouth and chin (how adorable... Right?) and looked mildly interested in the current events. Harry was obviously trying to make himself even smaller, although he had not understood the entire situation. What he knew was that little Holly had started crying at something he had said... which probably meant trouble for him once Aunt Petunia had heard the whole story.

"I think..." Dudley's face scrunched up for a moment, as if perplexed by the idea of being able to think. "...I think that Harry did something to Holly's birthday..."

"He shtole it!" Holly squeaked from her mother's shoulder.

"Really? You did that?" There was just a tiny hint of fear in the tone of the blonde porky boy a he turned to gaze at his cousin.

"And now... and now I can't have a birthday!"

Petunia had turned her sharp glare at her nephew at the first mention of Harry. Her mind was now processing what her children had said, really fast. Were the likes of _him_... able to do things like that? Maybe... maybe because Holly had the same birthday as him, he had tricked her in believing that... Although were it up to her, _he _would be the one without a... But, now that she thought about it, it _was _up to her... An idea suddenly dawned on her that made a vicious smile graze her lips.

"Ssh – there, there, Holly-darling. I can assure you that you have a birthday..."

"Awe you sure?"

Petunia let out one of her dry little laughs as vivid pictures of her giving birth to her daughter came to her mind.

"Sure, sweetheart. Now, since you have a birthday, and you can't share it with anybody... I think the truth is rather..."

"Harry doesn't have a birthday!" the blond girl exclaimed, suddenly understanding where her mum was going. She shot a disbelieving glance at her cousin, who was staring up at Petunia with eyes as wide as saucers.

The woman sent a nasty and self-satisfied glance at Harry before promptly turning around and walking briskly toward Privet Drive.

This is how close Petunia Dursley ever got to actually performing magic – but a dark, cruel kind of magic, seeing the face of the one who had suffered the almost-curse.

She had almost stolen his birthday from a seven-year-old boy.

. . .

The days before his eighth birthday were one of the hardest Harry had to live at Privet Drive. Although he was no fool to what Aunt Petunia had said about birthdays – of course you could share birthdays! How would twins do, otherwise? – he didn't decide on things in the house. Now, not only had the number of his chores doubled with the summer holidays, but he also had to accept the fact that he was not good enough to have a birthday. That was worse than the usual no-acknowledgement-and-no-present treatment...

Harry couldn't quite put words on his feelings, though the mere thought of not having a birthday had something of revolting. His birthday stood as one of the last legacies of his parents to him; losing his birthday meant losing his identity, in a way.

As a result the tidy, cold house became less of a home in the boy's eyes at every passing day. But he couldn't help a flicker of hope from remaining in his heart that this whole thing was but a joke.

So when, on the 31 st of July, Aunt Petunia baked a big, round and delicious-looking cake decorated with an icing reading "Happy Birthday Holly!", and Harry was left with the enormous pile of dishes, small tears started flowing down his face silently.

_I really don't have a birthday..._

A little blond girl who had just – blissfully – turned six was gazing at the open kitchen window from the front yard, unseen by the black-haired boy. Wondering just what kind of cake was in the oven (surely one filled with strawberries... oh, she couldn't wait until the afternoon!). What the girl happened to see had the effect of a cold shower.

Since the start of the whole birthday ordeal, an uncomfortable feeling had settled in the house. Holly, always one to solve mysteries, thought it was because of a growing gap between her parents and her cousin: indeed, as mum and dad were sporting ever bigger smiles, Harry grew less lively by the day. He escaped to the nearby square more often, and seemed to flee from her sight... And seeing Harry cry through the front yard was her confirmation.

Another thing Holly was very fond of beside solving mysteries, was plotting elaborate surprises.

That day, if you searched the newly-six-year-old, you'd find her in the garden of 4, Privet Drive, back against the maple tree, thinking.

She needed a timing...

. . .

That was it.

The table was set in the kitchen. A pile of presents sat lazily on one side of the table (Holly suspected one of them to be a teddy bear). All the members of the Dursley family, plus Harry Potter, sat at their usual seats.

The boy who had turned eight without a notice from anybody had stopped crying long ago, now staring, expressionless, at the pink cake and its six-shaped candle. "Happy Birthday Holly," he read over and over. It suddenly struck him that it would take only three letters to change "Holly" into "Harry".

The girl who was about to have a party for her birthday was smiling consiprationally.

The traditional song broke the silence.

Just as it was ending, Mrs Dursley urged her daughter to make a wish and blow up her candle.

So Holly focused with all her might, and asked the person in charge of birthday wishes to change three little icing letters on a cake (she had learnt how to spell Holly, Harry and Dudley at school before the summer).

When the girl opened her eyes, she found the expectant faces of her parents and the impatient one of her brother (when were they eating the cake already?!). But most of all, she found the green eyes of Harry – two exact replicas of her own eyes – staring incredulously at her.

"I want to share my birthday with you. Happy Birthday, Harry."

Then, a smile lit her cousin's face, and Holly just knew that things had gone right again.

On the count of three, they blew up the single candle of the cake.

Petunia, Vernon and Dudley blinked; when their eyes opened again, the two birthday kids had seemingly disappeared, along with the pile of birthday presents.

Harry and Holly spent the remainder of the day opening presents. Holly opened the largest parcel, only to find it was in fact a huge (for her) stuffed lion with a red fluffy mane. She instantly loved it, and named it George.

. . .

Petunia, who had remained petrified for a while, shot a tentative glance at the untouched cake. And turned even stiller. _She _had done the icing, _she _had picked the candle. At the time, it certainly didn't read "Happy Birthday Harry" with a waxy eight to top it.

"Haven't you messed up the candle?" Vernon finally said,earning himself a death glare.

.

.

"Are we eating the cake yet?"


End file.
